Merciless: The Mending of a Shattered Heart
by Rammy-x
Summary: Bobby, still trying to cope with not only his beloved mothers death, but also his best friend and little brother, Jack's, finds solace in a little boy that brings back his locked away memories, both good and bad. Full Sum inside. R&R please.
1. Could It Get Worse?

**This is my second story of the Mercer family. And i hope you enjoy it as much as i did writing it! :D**

**Summery: Jerry, Angel, and Bobby Mercer are all recovering from the traumatic events that haunted their Thanksgiving get-together. Bobby, still trying to cope with not only his beloved mothers death, but also his best friend and little brother, Jack's, finds solace in a little boy that brings back his locked away memories, both good and bad.**

"You gonna be alright?" Angel asked, wedging Sofi's last bag into the trunk of his rented Lincoln. He was on his way back to Los Angeles, and he was bringing Sofi with him this time.

"Yeah. I think I'll be okay. Thanks." I jammed my hands into my pockets, trying not to think of losing another brother. Whether it be by death or distance, I knew it was going to be a while before I saw him again. "I got you something." I dug the lanyard from my pocket and handed Angel his own key to Ma's house. My house.

"Why you giving me this?" Angel asked, taking it slowly. The band slipping through my fingers, like sand in an hour glass.

"You always have a place to stay, No matter what. Ma would have wanted me to keep it that way." I rubbed the back of my head, goodbyes were never my strong suit. "Jerry's already got one."

"Thanks, man." He pulled me into hug; Not one of those "I love you in a non-gay way" that the Marine Corps taught him, but an actual hug. And judging by the way he didn't pull away before it got too awkward, he was out of practice.

I was about to pull away from him when I heard the faint sound of a sob. "I miss 'em, Bobby. I miss 'em!"

"I do too, man," I patted his shoulder. "I do too. Look," I held him at arms length, "You should get going. You don't want to miss the plane."

He wiped his face on his sleeve, "Yeah. Thanks again, Bobby. It really means a lot. Really." He reassured me. He gave me another, shorter hug, and got into the car.

Sofi then walked up to me, tears also in her eyes, "You're strong, Bobby. Stay that way." She gave me the normal tight hug and a peck on my cheek.

"Thanks, La Vida. I will." She gave me a playful glare at the hated nickname. But I could tell she was in no mood to be sour.

"We'll visit. I promise!" Sofi called from the front seat of the car.

"Alright!" I called back as I waved. "Sure you will." I muttered under my breath. As soon as the shiny silver Lincoln turned the corner at the end of the street I walked inside, locked the door, and sank to the floor behind it.

It was easy being strong in front of my brothers. I'm the big brother, I have to be strong for them. But once I'm left alone with the vices of my own demented mind, I wallow in the pain from my losses. Ma. The first one to show real affection toward me, and show any interest in my goals, or thoughts. The first one to discipline me without a beating. And the first one to really actually love me. Jack. My youngest and, admittedly, most annoying brother. But the first one to accept me as a role-model. And not a shitty one either. I would always yell at him as he followed me around like my cursed shadow for the first year he was with us. Then I learned that once he actually stopped following me, I missed the company.

My tears slipped down my cheeks and onto the faded blue tiles of the walkway. As I stared down into the puddle of my own sorrow, something clicked; I stumbled up the stairs and into Jackies room. I swept his dufflepack off of his bed and checked all of the side pockets until I found what I was looking for. I took the shiny burned disk that read "Final Copy: Melodies for the Insane" from its hard plastic cover and stooped down to reach his old faded CD player, on the bottom shelf of his bookshelf. The disk read as having thirteen tracks, so I set it to repeat so I could sit and have Jackie sing me into an uncomfortable sleep.

And I did so. Falling asleep just after 6 o'clock pm, and not waking until 2 o'clock the next afternoon. Apparently losing a loved one can exhaust you into hours of restless sleep.

**Sorry if its not too long, I just wanted to get it started before I lost my ideas. :3  
so, i hope you enjoy my first chapterrrr. A possible name change may happen, so keep your eyes peeled, ill have it posted!**


	2. A Child's Savior

**Hoo yeahh! :D  
back by popular demand, Baby!  
Im glad everyone enjoyed the first chapter as much as it seems!  
this chapter is dedicated to ****biblicalforte**** for being the fire under my butt to write another chapter this soon. (:  
so thanks for that.  
diclaimer: yadda yadda yadda.(Taking Back Sunday is not mine...)  
it just happened to be how I imagined Jacks band to sound! (:**

**-x-**

_"You know, if you're gay, you can tell me."_

_"I'm not gay Bobby!"_

_"Sure, Little Faerie, sure."_

_"If you were just going to assume I was lying, why would you ask me?"_

_"I wanted to give you the chance to tell me yourself."_

_"There's nothing _to_ tell! I'm not gay. I swear it!"_

_I laughed and toussled Jackies hair. "C'mon, we better get going." I grabbed my beer and finished it, and grabbed Jackie by the collar pulling him off his stool. "See ya, Johnny!"  
_

_"What about my monies?" He shouted over the counter._

_"Put it on my tab!"_

_"The tab you haven't paid in the last tree months?" He held up three fingers to make his point. "I _lose_ money when you come here." he huffed._

_"Yeah. That tab. C'mon Jackie, Ma'll have a bird if we don't get home before dinner."_

The constant ringing of the telephone woke me from my uneasy sleep. Once I realized where I was, I wanted to go back to my dream world. The world where my little brother and my beloved mother were still at home waiting for me after a day on the ice. Where my little brother was my designated driver and dragged my drunken ass home after a hard day at the bar. Where the lasagna tasted just as delicious the second day as it did the first. Where Ma always had something cooking. Where the house always seemed to smell like cinnamon and peppermint. Where Ma would make my favorite birthday dinner of Mashed potatoes, green beans and barbecue chicken.

It was at this thought that I realized that it wasn't the dream land I wanted. I was starving; and my stomach growled to make the point.

And the phone was still ringing. Don't people ever just hang up after four or five rings? No! They have to let it ring and ring and ring.

On my way to the kitchen I picked up the cordless phone off the office desk and hit the shiny green button. "What?"

"You don't gotta be all pissy about it!" Jerry said from the other side of the phone.

"You woke me up. And I'm starving."

"Oh yeah. Don't no body get between Bobby and his food. To the point, then. Camille wanted me to ask you if you wanted to come over for dinner tonight?"

"I don't know, Jer..." I trailed off. Camille did know how to cook something fierce. "Alright. Sure. What time?"

"Around six. I gotta pick the girls up from their dance practice at around five-thirty. So right after that then."

"Yeah. Damn, it's already two? I could have slept the whole day if you hadn't called. Thanks for ruining that for me, Jer." I said sarcastically as he laughed into the receiver. "Six it is then." and I hung up on his laughter.

I dragged my feet to the kitchen. If I was going to have dinner with Jerry, I didn't need to eat a lot; just enough to quell the shouting of my stomach.

I found some home baked cookies in their jar. They had to have been at least two weeks old, but they were still chewy and not stale. I admit, I was surprised. But then I remembered who baked them, and surprise wasn't an option. Over the years Ma had perfected the recipe for her homemade chocolate chip cookies.

After dragging my feet to the kitchen, I dragged my feet to the upstairs bathroom and shocked myself on the door handle. Then resolving to not drag my feet unless absolutely necessary, I took a nice hot shower to wash away as much of the stress as possible. Afterward I shuffled back to my old room with a towel wrapped around my waist and grabbed some clothes that would look halfway decent for the family. That's when I realized that I never turned Jacks music off.

I walked into his room to hear him shouting something about how Shotguns speak louder than words, and I half expected him to be sitting on his bed, strumming away at his acoustic. After reminding myself that that's a scene I will never again witness, I turned off his player and went downstairs.

It was going to take some, nay, a lot getting used to, not having the house alive with rock music and delicious smells and the laughter of a happy family.

I fluffed my hair with my fingertips to dry it out. There was nothing like walking out into the middle of a Detroit winter with wet hair. It was also a nervous habit that I thought had disappeared a long time ago. You know, those little ticks that you didn't really know you were doing until someone pointed out that you were doing it; The tapping of a foot, the excess blinking, humming to yourself. Stuff like that. Rubbing my scalp with my fingertips started showing up after my dad dumped me at the boys home when I was five. And it only got worse from there. When I was ten some boys at the home were picking on me so bad that I actually I had to get stitches from the gash I scratched into my scalp.

I ran my fingers over the lightly puckered scar at the back of my head. What had brought this back? I'm not nervous about anything, that I know of. I'm still a little shook up, but I'll get over it. That has to be it. I'm still shook up. But who wouldn't be shook up? My whole life just got high-jacked and dumped on its ass in the middle of nowhere.

I grabbed a beer from the fridge and threw myself onto the couch, turning the tube to something that may have, but probably wasn't entertaining. My mind else where. What can I do to pass time to six?

I resolved to not finish the beer and go for a drive. The cops around here already got it out for me, I don't need a reason for them to take me in.

I pulled my knit hat over my ears and put my jacket on. Pulling my car keys out of my jacket pocket as I walked down the drive, I noticed that some kids were walking down the street in the direction of the ice rink, their hockey sticks resting over their shoulders. I smiled to myself, I knew where I would be going to pass the time. I got into my beat up Chevy and pulled out of the driveway and passed the kids, on my way to the rink. Pulling into a parking spot, I spotted an on-going match and got out to watch. I had no intentions of playing. But watching a game might help wake me up a bit.

A few of the guys, no older than seventeen, noticed me standing at the gate, and tried to talk me into a game. Their logic being that they would win for sure if they had the Michigan Mauler on their team. After refusing I heard someone from the other team mutter "pussy" in my direction, and it took everything I possessed not to hop the fence and beat the kid. But I refrained from indulging in the bloody defense of my hockey skills, and sat on the bench turned toward the adjoining rink where a group of small boys were on some sort of school trip, all wobbling in their skates, trying to right themselves.

I noticed a small boy with very long sandy-blond hair and bright blue eyes, skating on his own, like an old pro. It reminded me, like most things these days, of Jack. Who when he first got to our home, Jerry, Angel, and I all thought we would have to teach him from the start how to balance himself in his new skates. But miraculously, he already knew. And the same would go for this little man, already skating, and he couldn't have been any older than eight, maybe nine. He skated the rink with such finesse, I half expected angels to start singing. He may be the next great hockey player from Detroit.

If I didn't have half the ability to read people that I did, I would assume this was a fairly happy kid. But that's not true, and I do have the ability. He looked very scrawny, almost hallow. His clothes were a bit holey and tattered. The knit cap that was pulled down over his ears looked about three times too big, as did the rest of his clothes.

And it was while I was contemplating this small child when a hard black puck flew over the railing and nailed the kid in the knee, bringing his legs out from underneath him.

I jumped over the railing to the kid before his head hit the ice. Several gasps were heard around the park, but I didn't let anything distract me from getting to him before he needed serious medical attention.

A hiss was heard from the lady that was in charge of the orphan train of children. And she came running up cheering that I was a savior.

Another jeer was heard from the first rink, the on going game of hockey, that recently lost their puck. "Can we have our puck back? We kind of have a game going on here!"

And what someone thought was a whisper came "Dude, I told you he was a pussy! He's over there helping Oliver Twist, when he could be kicking your ass in a vicious game of hell on skates."

At that point, I lost any and all control that he had earlier, and jumped over the second divider between the two rinks and jumped the guy. I pinned his hands under his ass, as I sat on his stomach. "You. Don't. Even. Know. Who. Oliver. Twist. Is!" I punctuated every word with a slap to his face. By the time I was pulled off of him, he had two, very clear, hand prints. One on each cheek. Both of my hands were tingling from the rousing game of "I hate you, and I will beat the holy living shit out of you if you say one more word".

**-x-**

**You defend that childs honor, Bobby! xD  
okay, so its thanksgiving, and i cant sleep.  
and this chapter was supposed to be up yesterday, so i finished it...  
and well...  
okay, heres the deal:  
im going to keep updating this story as often as i can.  
however, i need to finish my story for Twilight... you know, even though i think its kind of an over sold story and people need to fall out of love with fictional vampires. But i do like the plot, and im 11 chapters into a very well written fic, and i need to finish it for all those people who still check it regularly for an update... so yeahh. just so you know, its gotta be done if i want any credibility at all. :/  
BUT! i really hope you enjoyed this chapter, so i have motivation to keep writing it! :D  
leave me reviews... i kinda really enjoy those! :D**


	3. A Resolution

**All aboard the Fail Boat!  
It was supposed to be "Before Their Eyes" not "Taking Back Sunday" that Jack reminded me of :/  
that aside; i, myself, enjoy seeing the soft side of Bobby, but i liked having the old spontainiously badass Bobby back in the last chapter! :D**

**without further ado-**

**Chapter 3!:**

**-x-**

"'Oliver Twist'?" Jerry was standing outside my cell. "Out of all the things you could have gotten angry about, you got pissed off because the guy called this kid 'Oliver Twist'?"

"It's not as unreasonable as it sounds, Jer!" I defended myself. "The kid could have had a concussion, or worse, and they didn't even care!"

"Well if it's any consolation Honey, you're getting let off easy, on account you have plenty of witnesses testifying that those jerks were instigating the whole thing. So rest easy, Sugar. You done your good deed." The big female cop said from her desk.

"Thanks Loretta." I smiled at her; my favorite cop to be in jail with.

"All right, Sugar, it's time to go." Jerry mocked. "You have been here entirely too much if you know all the cops by name!"

"Not all of 'em," I grinned.

So Jerry posted bail and I was free to reign terror upon the whole of Detroit once more. Until I remembered I was still expected for dinner.

The second we walked into the kitchen Camille glared at me.

"It would be a miracle, Bobby Mercer, if you ever showed up somewhere early." Her and the girls were sitting at the set table, waiting for us. "We've been waiting. Wash up and sit down before I have to kill you for making me serve a cold dinner." She warned.

So we did exactly that. Me and Jerry washed our hands and sat at the table, Jerry at the head, opposite Camille, and I across from Daniela and next to Amelia. We all held hands and said our graces.

"So," Jerry said as he chewed a chunk of roast beef, "What is it about this kid that fascinates you?"

"I'm not sure." I replied, spearing a quartered potato and taking a bite from it. "I think it may have something to do with he reminds me a lot of Jack..." I trailed off thoughtfully.

"We just lost him, Bobby. Everything's going to remind you of him. I'm feeling the exact same way right now."

"That's not what I mean, Jer," I set down my fork and crossed my hands, resting my chin lightly on my knuckles, "What I mean is like, he physically looks exactly the way Jack did when he was little!"

Jerry mimicked my action and nodded. "What about him looks like Jack? I mean, is it possible for him to have had a sibling in the system as well?"

I shook my head, "I-I don't think so. If he did, I think he would have known... Maybe not, but I don't know if that would be it. Maybe its just a coincidence?" I asked, unconvinced.

"Maybe. But I have a feeling there's some kind of connection, if he looks that much like him! Do you know his name?"

"No."

"Do you know which home he's in? Or maybe which agency he's registered under?"

"Nope."

"Do you know how old he is?"

"Uhmm... Somewhere between seven and ten..."

"Alright, good start. We start looking at dawn."

"Really? That early?"

"No. I've just always wanted to say that..."

"Ahh... So, like noon then?"

"Finish your dinner, Dear." Camille intercepted.

-x-

I woke up at around ten o'clock, lying on Jacks floor. The C.D. I was playing last night was sitting patiently at the end of track thirteen, waiting for me to press play and start it all over again.

I sighed and rubbed my sore neck. It was entirely too early, but for some reason I couldn't sleep anymore; my body wouldn't let me. I slumped downstairs and into the kitchen, grabbing the carton of eggs I got from the corner store on my way home, and the bacon I took out of the freezer last night. After a quick breakfast, my old Chevy roared to life and I drove to Jerry's. We were going to find this kid, and we were going to figure out why he looked so much like Jack. It just seemed so weird that Jack wouldn't know if he had a kid brother. And if he did know, why he wouldn't say something to Ma; He knew damn well she would have done something about it!

I walked into Jerry's place with only a knock, and walked to his office where I knew he would be sitting at his desktop computer. When I opened the door I saw Jerry sitting at his desk, the landline in the crook of his neck, writing furiously onto a notepad. He didn't notice me for a few more seconds, until he was finished writing whatever was so important and thanking the voice on the other end of the line.

"Yes. Mhmm. Of course. Yes, we'll be there around one, then. Yes. Thank you, Ms. Barnes." He looked up from the notepad when he hung up the phone. "Well." Jerry cleared his throat and stood up, handing me the legal pad on which he was writing. "I have contacted the six orphanages in Detroit. One of which only keeps boys thirteen to eighteen; So I'm ruling that one out for now. And I have set up appointments with the other five. They all know we're looking for a specific child, and their willing to help us." He smiled his big toothed grin.

"Where do we start?" I could hardly contain my excitement. This would be an adventure for me that wouldn't put anyone I love in the line of fire. This was going to be an adventure that was good for those involved. Hopefully.

**-x-**

**-cries- it took sooo long! D:  
but its up now! :D so rejoice, my reviewers! for i have actually come through on posting! and im also posting the next chapter of my twilight fic, so thats good too. Its good news all around! :D review please!**


	4. Step One

Jerry and I loaded into his minivan and made it to the first home before noon. And followed the helpful signs to the administration office.

"Thank you for seeing us on such short notice, Mr. Orland!" Jerry shook a stout mans hand after we had made it to the office and let ourselves in with a short knock.

"Ahh, Mr. Mercer, it's no problem at all! Now who did you say you were looking for?" Cliff Orland furrowed his brow, trying to recall the conversation they had had the day before.

"Well, there is a small dilemma that we run into with that." Jerry looked at me, and back at the man, "We don't actually know his name..."

"But we do know what he looks like!" I chimed in.

"Well I'm afraid that won't help us too terribly much in this. You see, we have more that eight hundred children here! More than half being boys." He sat in his chair and folded his hands across his formidable belly.

"You're telling me you can't get a description from us, and ask your staff if they know of the boy?" I asked, trying not to jump out of my hard wooden chair.

"If you had a picture of him, it would make it easier, or a name, even. But if you're looking for a boy with brown hair and brown eyes, there might be eighty or ninety children that look like that, more if we can't narrow down by age!"

I forced myself not to roll my eyes. "Sandy blond hair, blue eyes. Probably about seven or eight. OH! And he was with a black woman. She was the guardian at the skating rink!"

"Well I can stop you right there!" Orland raised a hand to silence me, "I haven't authorized any trips to the skating rinks since February." He crossed his arms across his chest.

"Not to make a hasty accusation, but you're acting as if you don't want to help us adopt one of your children, if he is here." Jerry asked, twisting his short beard around his finger.

Mr. Orlands face suddenly was very red, and he chuckled nervously. "Well you see, I didn't want to make a big deal out of it, but we don't typically adopt children out to homosexuals!" He tapped his fingers on his belly rythmatically, his face still beet red. "You have to understand, we do it to protect the children!" He quickly tried to cover his slip up.

I bit my tongue until I was sure I would taste blood. Shaking my head I got up and walked out of the office, as calmly as I could.

Jerry stood also. "You remember [i]Evelyn[/i] Mercer, don't you?"

"Of course! She was only the most respected woman in Michigan state foster care ever! And she will be sorely missed!" The man looked blustered at the indignity of the question.

"Well, we're her children," Jerry crossed the room, "Not lovers." He added.

As we walked down the hall a tall lean woman dressed in a gray pant suit gestured to us. We followed her into another, smaller office, and she turned to us.

"My name is Ramona Frost. I knew your mother well; we were good friends." She waved her hand at her computer. "I heard you talking as I passed the office. I pulled up all of the children in our system that match your description, and in the age group you said, there are only six boys." She turned the screen so we could see it clearly. We huddled in closer to her screen to see the tiny mugshot-like photos.

"Do you see him, Bobby?" Jerry asked, his voice just barely above a whisper.

My hopes weren't high, but I asked Ramona to blow up one of the photos to get a better look.

"That's Zachary." She smiled fondly. "He's a great kid! A real joy to see every day."

"Well if I don't find the kid I'm looking for, I'll keep him in mind. But unfortunately it's not him." I frowned. "Sorry. He has the same shaped face. But it was a different boy."

"Well I'm sorry I couldn't have been of more help!" Ramona sighed, turning the monitor back the right way.

"No, no. You were more than helpful!" Jerry smiled.

"Yeah, a helluva lot more helpful than Dingbat in there." I gestured to Orlands office.

Ramona nodded. "Cliff has a small mind and a large mouth. He will be out of office soon, and I will be there to clean up his mess, and take over."

"Well you have our vote!" I smiled. It felt nice to have a genuine one on my face for once in so long.

"Thank you boys, I hope you good luck in finding your child." She walked us to the door, and saw us out.

We walked out to the van and I slumped in. "Well [i]that[/i] was a complete waste!"

Jerry chuckled, "No it wasn't. There are only so many places he could be, Bobby. And we just took one of them off of our list. We're getting closer. Slowly, but surely." And his smile slowly started to creep onto my face. Jerry was absolutely right.

Slowly, but surely.


End file.
